L'amour C'est La Foi
by Broadway Evanescence
Summary: Enjolras comes from a wealthy background while his humble servant Grantaire secretly worships him with his amazing talent for the arts. Enjolras must lead a revolution while simultaneously trying to protect and hide his forbidden love with Grantaire away from his parents and his arranged fiancé: Eponine.
1. Cherche à Obtenir Une

**Hello, this is my first Fanfiction! Please review and give me feedback because I think I really need it! Thank you!**

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Enjolras awoke with a start. Sweat plastered his blonde hair to his crème colored forehead. His velvet-red room was dark and he frantically darted his eyes around the room to see if anyone was there. His dreams were plagued with the nightmares of the dreadful revolution. He was not afraid of dying... no, but what will his parents think of his revolutionary ideas? They will obviously be disappointed and his father will probably consider disowning him. Enjolras hated his father with every fiber of his being. His father was basically against everything he was for and this made his blood boil.

Enjolras' golden silky locks were drenched in his salty sweat and he put his hand over his chest for reassurance. In his dream he had been shot... right in his heart. He heard quiet footsteps that were coming down the hall. The footsteps started to increase in volume and he hoped it wasn't who he thought it was. His door slowly creaked open and before him, stood the feeble house servant: Grantaire. Grantaire was a very quiet, cynical man with hazel eyes and messy black curls. He had bags under his eyes, definitely from all of the strenuous cleaning and reconstructing. But he held something in those eyes... almost like a cry for help. Grantaire happened to be a handsome man, he just had an addiction to one of the worst poisons in the world: alcohol. His addiction disgusted Enjolras and maybe if he did not drink so much, he might be thought of as "likeable".

"Something wrong sir?" Grantaire asked. Grantaire was always loyal and obedient, but he had just no hope... in anything. He was the complete opposite of 'optimistic'.

"No I am fine Grantaire... I'm just restless I guess..." Enjolras replied. He seemed to get aggravated with Grantaire questioning him. It was none of the drunkard's business what was going on in his mind.

"Would you like some tea or water sir?" Grantaire asked.

"I said that I am fine Grantaire!" Enjolras shouted much too angrily. He saw the flicker of hurt in Grantaire's eyes. Grantaire slightly turned his head to the left. "I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to irritate you..."

"Grantaire..." Enjolras interrupted him. "I'm sorry. Im just frustrated that is all... you may return to your post immediately. My parents will not be happy to find you on this floor. Shouldn't you be painting the dining room walls?" He asked curiously. Grantaire shook his head slowly and mumbled.

"No sir. I finished that hours ago. I just heard you speaking in your sleep and I was worried." Enjolras sighed. He inwardly cared for the cynic slightly but, he would never admit that to anyone. The drunkard unleashed an anger inside of him so evil that he would say many hurtful words that should never be said to anyone. Sometimes Grantaire's eyes would glisten with his unshed tears that were usually ready to spill, but Grantaie would just blink the tears away. Every time Enjolras saw these unshed tears he would be ready to crack his marble façade. But for some reason, Enjolras could only say the cruelest things to him. Like now.

"Well winecask, you have nothing to worry about. I said that I am fine. Return to your duties and that is an order." Enjolras demanded.

"Yes sir." Answered Grantaire as he hurriedly shuffled out of the room. Enjolras suddenly felt a rush of loneliness and compassion towards the man after he left. Could be possibly be... missing him? 'Of course not.' He thought. 'That is just ridiculous! I feel no pull towards anything but the revolution' he slowly lowered himself and rested his head against his ivory pillow. He absentmindedly twirled the golden trim of lace on his night shirt. He knew nothing of the cynical man still hovering by his door, silently begging for his attention and love.


	2. Les Enfants

"And this is the West wing of the buildng!" Enjolras' hears his maid Amelia say. Even though young Enjolras' head is covered with sheets he could still recognize her voice. He opened up one big blue eye and listened intently to the conversation going on outside his door. "Down here is the dining hall where all of the food is prepared and served." his maid Amelia said. _Who could she be talking to? _Enjolras hopped out of his comfortable bed and strode to the door. His angelic blonde locks flowing as he walked. When he opened the door, another maid appeared in front of him.

"There you are Enjolras! Come on your mother and father are waiting for you!" the maid said. Young Enjolras walked down the halls of his luxorious home. The maid held his hand tightly as they walked to the dining hall for breakfast with his father and mother. His bright blue eyes filled with dreams and hopes of being just like his father. His chubby hand played with the hem of his shirt even when the maid swatted it away. As they stumbled down the hall he noticed another young boy that was also holding a maid's hand. He was dressed in the dirtiest of rags and his hazel eyes showed wonder and amazement. He had dirt against his round, pale cheeks and he looked sickly. His black hair was wild and curly. He was observing his surroundings like it was best place he has ever seen.

"Come along!" The maid said to the boy as him and Enjolras' eyes connected. The boy smiled at him and Enjolras could not help but to smile back. He pondered the boy as they scurried down the hall. Was the boy nice? Would he want to be his friend? Could he read too? What was his favorite food? So many questions ran through Enjolras' head and he was way too anxious to find the answers. As they entered the dining hall he saw the boy with the maid talking to his father. His father was... angry? But why? The boy seemed kind. Maybe Enjolras could finally have a real friend.

"This boy is a filthy rat off of the street! Get him out of my home immediately. He does not deserve to walk upon these floors." His father basically screamed. The maid looked hurt and she started to mumble something but his father did not look convinced. "I do not want a random gamin scuffing up my floors!" His father exclaimed. Enjolras started to become frightened of his father. What was so wrong with the boy that made his father so angry? Enjolras, unaware of the consequences, ran toward his father while ignoring the maid's request to come back.

"Papa... Papa!" His father looked over in his direction.

"What is it my boy?" His father questioned him. Enjolras softened under his father's kind glare but he looked toward the boy and he knew what he was going to do.

"How come he can't stay Papa?" Enjolras asked. His father looked befuddled but decided to answer the question.

"We do not need anymore children in this house mon enfant. We have you as it is." his father answered.

"But he seems nice Papa! Please let him stay! He looks hungry and cold." Enjolras pleaded. Enjolras' mother glared at her husband and then whispered something in his ear.

"Alright enough!" his father shouted. "He may stay on one condition: that he becomes a servant and helps around our home." Enjolras smiled.

"Thank you Papa!" Enjolras ran back to the table and started to eat the breakfast that he was served. He saw that the boy was taken away from the dining hall. Enjolras took a crepe' and ran with it in his hand. "Hey!" Enjolras exclaimed to the pair. The maid turned around and so did the boy. He handed the boy the crepe'. The boy hestitated but then took the pastry and started to eat it. "What's your name?" Enjolras curiously asked.

"Grantaire." the boy said in-between mouth fulls.


	3. Apollo Meets Dionysus

Grantaire continued to clean off all the tables and sweep the dusty floors. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead and continued to work. When he finished, he put away the broom and the dirty rag and went to his little bedroom in the back of the house. He proceeded to bathe and then he prepared himself for the rest of the day. He threw on his white powdered shirt and his green vest. Grantaire was never the one to care about appearance, but he was usually scolded for his cynical way of thinking, especially by Enjolras. Grantaire is obviously infatuated with his so-called 'Apollo'. His strong chiseled facial features and his crystal blue eyes made Grantaire weak in the knees.

He admired Enjolras, and it was not just because of his beauty. He admired him because of his dedication to a worthless cause that was probably not going to work. Enjolras has a passion that Grantaire strived to feel but it was impossible. The only passion he cared about was his revolution, not an idiotic drunkard. Grantaire took out his green glass bottle from his secret stash of liquor and downed the entire bottle in less than twenty minutes. Enjolras hated him... and Grantaire knew that. He drowned himself in the companionship of a bottle and his art supplies.

Whenever Grantaire was not working, he was painting Apollo on his canvas in the center of the room. He made no effort to hide it since no one ever came into his room. He sat on his wooden stool and continued to paint his face. Grantaire noticed that Enjolras always wore some article of red clothing, red like the color of the blood tha will spill at the barricade. His oil pastels and liquid paint re-created Enjolras' face in a spectacular way, but Grantaire was not convinced. He felt that he could not create Enjolras' perfect face and incredible stature with a couple of brushes. He sighed while putting down his brushes and grabbing his tan coat and red hat. He walked up the spiral staircase and immediately noticed his Apollo sitting at the ebony piano. Enjolras never noticed, but sometimes in the night, Grantaire would sit at the bottom of the staircase and listen intently to the sound of the piano being played. For some reason, and for the life of himself he could not figure out, but Enjolras never played the piano in front of anyone. He only played around midnight, and Grantaire knew it was him.

"Good morning sir." Grantaire said glumly. Enjolras was writing something on a piece of parchment with a quill pen. Probably something revolution related. He did not even raise his head, to acknowledge Grantaire's presence. _T__hat is probably how much he does not care._

"Good morning Grantaire. Remember, you can call me Enjolras, just not in front of my mother and father." Enjolras' mother was kind but his father was cruel and merciless. He wanted Grantaire to know his place as a servant, nothing more.

"Yes... Enjolras." The name felt and sounded like smooth silk coming from his lips. "Do you need anything from the merchant sir? I mean... Enjolras."

Enjolras smiled at his minor mistake. _Did he actually smile at me?_

"No thank you Grantaire, I am fine." Grantaire started to walk away but then stopped curious. The wine must have loosened his tounge.

"Enjolras?" he asked.

"Hm?" Enjolras grunted in response.

"At night, I can hear someone playing the piano... quite beautifully I may add. Do you know who that might be?" Grantaire asked while smirking. Enjolras' head raised rather quickly and he started to blush.

"No. I have absolutely no idea what you are speaking of. The alcohol is messing with your mind." Grantaire laughed.

"I am not an idiot Apollo. I know it is you who plays in the night."

"What... what did you just call me?" Grantaire did not realize his slip-up.

"Nothing... I said nothing." Enjolras did not let this go.

"Grantaire... I heard you. You called me, Apollo?" Grantaire blushed.

"Yes and? Is there something wrong with me comparing you to a God? If it were me, I would be... flattered." Yes, the wine definitely loosened his tounge a lot. Enjolras blushed again, but not from embarrassment.

"Grantaire, I am a mere mortal, just like you. I am no God, especially an Apollo." Enjolras said. "Let's not make that mistake again, understood?"

"Yes sir. I mean Enjolras!" Grantaire corrected himself. Enjolras continued to work and Grantaire left to go to the merchant. Enjolras suddenly missed the cynic's presence once more. He felt like he... needed him. But why?

"Wait Grantaire!" What was he doing?

"Yes Enjolras?"

"_If I am your Apollo, then you are my Dionysus. _On the other hand... I do need something from the merchant. Would you mind picking up some leaflets? I need them for the protest today."

"Yes Enjolras." Grantaire walked off. Enjolras sighed. _Please come back._


End file.
